


The Tie(s) That Bind

by thelazyegg



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Cinderella AU, Fluff, M/M, Viktor with a K, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 22:39:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10706610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelazyegg/pseuds/thelazyegg
Summary: Just like that. A waking dream, the young prince mused as he watched the shifting shadows of the night. He sighed, finding a lump in his throat that had not been there before.Turning, he readied himself to return. Perhaps Yuri was finally over his humiliating defeat and they could retire to their chambers. Already, he had grown tired of the party, there was no use for it anymore.That was when it caught his eye. A shimmering piece of fabric waving gently in the breeze and hurriedly he lurched forward, catching it in his outstretched palm.It was the ugliest tie Viktor had ever seen.Well, if he didn’t leave a glass slipper behind, Viktor would just have to find the man that captivated his heart tonight based on poor fashion taste alone.AKA: A Cinderella AU inspired by the banquet





	The Tie(s) That Bind

**Author's Note:**

> !!! It's my first work! I had this idea for so long and I figured it would be so funny to see it come to life, so here it is! I'm unsure if I will continue it, but I might add a chapter or two if any ideas come to me.

He hadn’t been looking for the Prince.

Everybody knew of course, that this was to be the Prince’s ball. Prince Viktor, they whispered, women out dousing clothes in soapy water, wiping the sweat from their brows; Prince Viktor, the children chorused, tumbling out into the street in reckless abandon, and everywhere around the town, people were abuzz with news about the young prince, who had been up until now, a lone figure viewed from a dizzying height. A slip of a boy, the last time they saw him, by the side of his mother the Queen and his father the King, waving out solemnly to them. And now, he was holding a ball!

Perhaps if he had known what the Prince even looked like, Yuuri might have been straining his neck for a glance, just like the rest of them, but all he had heard was rumours. The name sounded almost like a charm, like an incantation, repeated to ward off bad luck. He had little time to think of some faraway prince, when he was subject to scrubbing the floors all day.

And it still made no sense that he was here, caught up in the swing of the Royal Ball, rubbing shoulders with the elite. All around him was beauty, the lace dresses, and the enchanting laughter that floated up to the vaulted ceilings, it was luxury unlike any he had seen in his life, and it was all thanks to Phichit.

Phichit, his best friend, who had appeared out of the blue, with a new suit and a tie, a gleam in his eye. Who had pushed him out into the darkness, stumbling into a carriage as the other boy waved a jaunty goodbye.

_Don’t worry, Yuuri! Just leave it up to me!_

 

Every rational thought had screamed at him to return, to bid the carriage turn back to a home that had floors still to be swept, and shelves to be dusted. But his feet had moved of their own accord, and now Yuuri was here.

Almost abruptly, he found himself jostled out of his thoughts by a waiter, precariously balancing a tray of glasses, filled to the brim with trembling liquid. Yuuri had been halfway through stammering out an apology when one had been forced into his hand; seeing as he had little to do otherwise, he brought it to his mouth, and took a sip.

It was **delicious.**

 

**-*-**

 

It’s only about half an hour later when he staggered away from the dumbfounded waiter, who quickly made an escape. The tray he was carrying, lighter than it was, the empty flutes of what had been champagne clinking together ominously.  
It was an unfamiliar sensation, not being able to even tell where his feet were even as he had the vague sense of placing one before the other. Yuuri would blame the alcohol later, for his failure to notice how the crowd had grown hushed, how everyone had parted as the man of the hour appeared. For he was a man now, no longer a young boy cowering behind the skirts of his benevolent mother, he stood tall, and walked with a grace to him. He caught everyone’s eye, his smile was as flippant as much as it was warm. The silver hair, the crown nestled on his head, would be the talk of the town for years to come.

How it sparkled under the lights of the chandelier, women would swoon, there had  
never been a grander appearance, nor a figure more befitting of the prince.

None of which Yuuri noticed, as he lurched forward, grabbing the first thing he could for balance. It was soft, and slowly his fingers curled around the piece of finely woven silk. It was no table, but a man, and looking up he found himself struck dumb by a pair of brilliant blue eyes.

A murmur was heard amongst the crowd, yet no one dared to step forward. Yuuri, for one, seemed unaware of his mistake, and there was no sign of it, for a gentle hand came over his, tugging the shirt free, followed by a musical laugh. It was almost as if the ballroom let out a collective sigh of relief.

That was, until a pair of far rougher hands shoved him back furiously. It seemed Prince Viktor was not unaccompanied, and a voice that belonged to none other than his cousin, Prince Yuri Plisetsky, had something more to say to the intruder.

“Oi, what the fuck do you think you’re doing, piggy?”

The last insult was sneered, spoken from a boy of no more than fifteen. Good naturedness didn’t run in the family, then. But Yuuri was too far gone to care; glaring at the mop of blonde hair in a state of inebriation, he spoke the words that would spell his death, jabbing a finger in the teenager’s direction.

“W-What’s it to you!”

This was not met well, but Yuuri took no notice as he continued to swagger forward, releasing the prince. Had anyone been looking, they might have noticed his bemused smile, how he brushed his fringe of his eyes to get a closer look. His shoulders shook-- tears, perhaps, from having his first ball absolutely ruined.

No, that wasn’t it. In a split second his hand fell away. Viktor Nikiforov was _laughing._

It didn’t help that his laughter was drowned out by the sound of heated insults, as each boy drew closer, each stepping across the marble floor, raising their chins defiantly, standing on toes in a desperate attempt to appear taller, each word spoken more harsh than the last.

The crowd waited with bated breath, the guards stood on the side, anticipating a fight to break out.

No one expected the fight to be a dance battle, but as soon as the words were uttered they were off, gliding onto the floor. Liquid courage made Yuuri surprisingly graceful, gone was the stumbling elk who dared not even breathe a word to those around him. He was positively shining, the brightest of the ball. No misstep tripped him up, and it wasn’t long before his suit jacket was discarded to make way for more flamboyant dancing. There was something to be admired in how he danced with such reckless abandon, it adhered to no formal teaching. Yet it felt natural, as though he had music coursing through his veins, instead of blood. He was unbeatable.

Even Yuri had to admit that.

Yuri who was currently sprawled out on the floor, red in the face. From anger, or disappointment, no one could tell. But Yuuri, Yuuri was a force unto his own, still dancing. Every eye in the room was his, and it was only when he met an outstretched hand that he paused.

“Dance with me.” He had pleaded, the first thought that had crossed his mind. Cheeks flushed, eyes on fire. Even the buttons of his shirt had been danced away,rolling out onto the porcelain floor. The tie that had been like a vice around his neck all evening had found a new home around his head, a makeshift headband for the battle he was waging.

Viktor never stood a chance.

And just like that the festivities resumed, at once the party was in full swing again, more lively than before. All around him, couples twirled on the ballroom floor, yet there was no man or woman more fascinating than the one in the prince’s arms. No one who danced with more exuberance, and as he watched sweat trickle down pale skin, Viktor dimly realised it was love.

Viktor caught a glimpse of his own reflection in dilated pupils, saw silver hair and the unfamiliar blissful expression that made him doubt if the face was his own, but it was only a moment before the other boy pulled away sharply. Something seemed to have brought him to his senses, and just like that the spell was broken.

Overhead, the sound of the grandfather’s clock rang out ominously.

-*- 

 

Later, Viktor would remember how his fingers grazed the younger boy’s shirt sleeves, how it was his turn to nearly trip now, in his desperation to give chase. No one was noticed this time, as his dance partner fled out into the courtyard.

“Wait-- Please, wait!”

His voice, carried by the cold night air. It worked, but only for a second, as the mysterious stranger glanced back. What little moonlight shed on him revealed regret, and then he was gone.

Just like that. A waking dream, the young prince mused as he watched the shifting shadows of the night. He sighed, finding a lump in his throat that had not been there before.Turning, he readied himself to return. Perhaps Yuri was finally over his humiliating defeat and they could retire to their chambers. Already, he had grown tired of the party, there was no use for it anymore.

That was when it caught his eye. A shimmering piece of fabric waving gently in the breeze and hurriedly he lurched forward, catching it in his outstretched palm.

It was the ugliest tie Viktor had ever seen.

Well, if he didn’t leave a glass slipper behind, Viktor would just have to find the man that captivated his heart tonight based on poor fashion taste alone.


End file.
